(Trigger warning for suicide goading in one line. If you want to skip it, it's in the paragraph beginning with "Then be nice to my ears.")
Jeremy stood in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing their hair and concentrating on the day ahead. Michael had expressed concern that Jeremy wouldn't remember their daily habits or know when school started or find where school was and other silly things like that. And sure, Jeremy could always text Michael for help. But after a good night's rest, Jeremy's head was clearer than it had been yesterday.
They still didn't know what had caused their sudden change on Saturday, but they were starting to recall bytes and pieces of what had happened. They remembered having an argument about texting Christine. They knew they'd gone to the mall and bought the last container of Mountain Dew Red. (Mental note: That was something they did need to bring up to Michael when it was convenient.) Unpleasantly, they also remembered going into some kind of seizure and being sure that they were dying. But the memories were all distant and disconnected, and they didn't freak out about them the way they knew they probably should.
They could remember their class schedule now, so everything was fine.
Humming, they did a once-over of themself in the mirror. Their wardrobe was hardly ideal, with most of their clothes being woefully dated t-shirts, thin cardigans, and ratty skinny jeans. They managed to dig around and find a nice long-sleeved plaid button-up with a collar, which would look passable without accidentally starting any conversations. They had, after all, promised Michael they'd avoid unnecessary peer interaction.
They checked the weather online. It would be too cold to walk to school, so they'd have to take the bus-
They were jerked out of their thoughts by a polite rap on the bathroom door. "Son? You in there?"
"I'll just be a second!" One more hair check and a fake smile at the mirror, and Jeremy opened the door and stepped out. Was it normal for their dad to knock? The door hadn't been locked and Jeremy could swear they remembered their dad having a gross habit of barging in while nearly nude. "Good morning, Dad," they said politely.
"Morning." His dad had a faraway look in his eyes. "Hey, just so you know, I'll be at the office late again tonight, but there's dinner in the fridge for you. Just nuke it when you're hungry."
"Wow, all right, Mr. Responsible," Jeremy teased.
His dad chuckled. "That's the idea. Now, where'd I put my tie-" He paused. "Top of my dresser. Of course."
"Sounds about right. See you when I see you, Dad." Jeremy held up a hand to wave as they grabbed a sweater and made their way out the door. They didn't want to stick around in case they said something out of character and their dad got suspicious. Their dad didn't wave back, preoccupied with transforming himself into something business-appropriate.
Outside was brisk and pleasant. Jeremy let out a breath and watched it fog up in front of him and dissipate into the late autumn air. They reevaluated their bus-riding plans. Normally they'd be worried about catching cold in this weather, but the chill felt good. They slung their useless sweater over their shoulder and wirelessly updated Michael's Google doc as they walked.
9. I'm comfortable in temperatures below freezing.
Maybe Michael had gotten everything wrong. Maybe Jeremy was going through their superhero backstory right now and was at the part where they explored their new powers. Just for the hell of it, Jeremy jumped in place and tried to fly. When that didn't work, they rubbed their temples and tried to shoot lasers out of their eyes. Or to move things telekinetically, or to reverse time, or to shrink to the size of an ant. It wasn't a particularly productive train of thought, but it kept them occupied until they arrived at school.
Chloe and Jenna were in front of Jeremy's locker, chatting away. Jeremy froze up, remembering the murderous intensity of Michael's glare when he'd mistaken them for being the SQUIP. Michael technically didn't want them talking to anyone at school. Could they shoo the girls away? Could they slip between them unnoticed?
But Chloe looked up and gave Jeremy a thousand-watt smile. "And there's the man of the hour," she said, stepping aside. One of her feet now pointed at Jenna, with the other pointed at Jeremy. Jeremy recognized the body language as being an invitation into their conversation. Then they realized they were probably being weird and computer-y for bothering to analyze body language at all.
"You mean me?" They said belatedly. A smile slid onto their face naturally, and they leaned against their locker with their elbow, letting one hand tuck itself into their back pocket. Poised, confident, casual. "Were you girls gossiping about me? All good things, I hope."
Jenna and Chloe looked at each other and giggled. Hard to tell if they were laughing with Jeremy or at them. "Jenna was just telling me that you're on the prowl again," Chloe said, swiping a hand like a cat's claw. "Growl!"
Yikes.
"No, for real!" Jenna interjected. "What's the story with you and Christine? Did you really break up?"
Double yikes. Jeremy glanced at the ceiling, avoiding looking at Jenna. "Were we ever really together?" they said, cagily. "We're still working things out."
"But, you're both up for grabs now," Jenna said before they finished their sentence.
"We're not exclusive, if that's what you mean." This dialogue route wasn't going to do them any good since they were no longer focused on trying to sleep their way into the popular kid clique. Jeremy spun their locker combo, 21-9-7, and gathered their books while Chloe whispered something to Jenna behind her hand. Both of them laughed again, which made the hairs on the back of Jeremy's neck stand up. They gritted their teeth, tossed their sweater in, and shut the locker, spinning the lock and pulling it a half-dozen times to make extra sure that it was locked. By the time they'd turned around again, their annoyance was wiped off their face and replaced with something bland and cheerful.
The girls were both looking at something on Jenna's phone. A Craigslist ad, it looked like. They were distracted, though, which was a good enough justification for Jeremy to slip away wordlessly and get to homeroom.
The morning flew by. Jeremy may have had an "in" with the popular kids, but he wasn't enough of a social butterfly that people would actually check in with him during class. The most he got was a high-five from Jake when they passed in the hallway and a meaningful look from Michael when he left school to pick up lunch from the corner store. He was bobbing his head back and forth as his headphones blasted music, which Jeremy sneakily tuned into. They were able to hear a few lines of Oingo Boingo yelling "Wake up! It's 1984!" before they tuned back out again. Jeremy supposed that was as somber as Michael's musical tastes ever got.
The fact that Michael was leaving them unsupervised for a full lunch period was a good sign. They hadn't been SQUIPpy enough to draw attention to themself. It was a pretty good streak they had going, so they elected to eat lunch alone. They munched on cafeteria food and read a raunchy fantasy webcomic to keep themself occupied. Christine spotted them at the table once, but Jeremy dumped their food and made a beeline for the men's room, which she couldn't follow them into. Crisis averted. Jeremy wasn't sure what their relationship was supposed to be right now, but more importantly, they weren't sure how much Michael had told her about their situation.
In all, they'd done a fine job of keeping the humans at arms' length, they decided during their sixth period study hall. They started typing a text to Michael to keep him updated, but stopped when they heard, "Psst! Jeremy!" The hiss had a slight lisp to it, making Jeremy flinch. That flaw was supposed to be corrected by now. The sound of it grated on his ears. It took mere moments to calculate the most emotionally evocative response.
"Rich," they said cooly, turning around in their seat. "How you doing, hot stuff?"
Rich barked a laugh from the desk behind Jeremy. The teacher shushed him, not that Rich paid any mind. "That's a nickname I haven't heard before," he said, leaning closer to Jeremy. Whatever he'd been planning to ask Jeremy was forgotten. Jeremy couldn't look away from the angry burn scars that covered Rich's body. Jenna had said Rich needed skin grafts, and the result was less than pretty. And yet, Rich wasn't trying to cover them up. "Don't tell me you're into dudes now too? I could never get a read on you."
"Maybe," Jeremy said breezily. "I guess after what happened with Christine, it might be worth switching to guys." They watched the attempted-SQUIP-killer shift in his seat. Bless his head, Rich actually believed they were flirting. "I don't know my type yet-"
"What, lookin' to experiment?" Rich laughed again.
"But personally, I'd go for a guy that's less flaming." Jeremy smugly turned around in their seat, listening to Rich sputter. Hah. Gotcha.
"Not cool!" Rich said lowly. "What the hell was that for, Heere? I'm trying to be nice-"
"Then be nice to my ears and stop that ugly lisp." Jeremy sneered. Just like they didn't question how they'd known Michael was their best friend, they didn't wonder why they felt justified in hating Rich. "Years of coaching and you're still talking like thith? You must be dumb as a rock. I'd tell you to kill yourself but you can't even do that ri-"
Jeremy saw stars on the ceiling. Gasps and loud chatter burst like explosion shrapnel around them. There was a ringing in their ears. Their legs were painfully tangled in their own chair legs as their textbooks slid down around their feet. A metal chair foot dug into their skull while they sprawled out in the aisle between desks. Jeremy groaned, closing their eyes. They shifted a few things around in their body chemistry, mostly inhibiting cyclooxygenase, and stopped the pain as soon as it began. It wasn't completely effective, not like it should have been with a SQUIP, but their head was aching dully in an ignorable way and they considered that a success.
A pair of hands grabbed Jeremy's upper arms. They let themself be pulled up as a couple nearby students scrambled to pick up Jeremy's stuff from where it'd fallen. "Are you all right?" Jeremy heard their teacher ask. "What happened?"
They cracked their eyes open. "I'm fine." They darted their glance to Rich. Rich had definitely shoved them in their desk. If he was feeling guilty about the spill Jeremy took, it wasn't showing on his face. He was just mouthing "what the fuck" over and over again to Jeremy, who scowled in response. But they dropped the expression immediately, feeling a need to keep up appearances. "Sorry. I must have lost my balance. It's fine." They straightened up, shaking off the teacher's grip, and stooped to get the rest of their books.
"Do you need to go to the nurse?" the teacher asked, looking concerned.
Other kids were snickering. Jeremy heard some whispering and innately knew that a rumor was starting, one related to their breakup with Christine and their public breakdown on the side of the road. People would be saying that Jeremy was going crazy. They'd have to nip that in the bud. "I'll be all right. It's just a hangover," they said nonchalantly. The whispers got louder with some stifled giggles interspersed, but Jeremy wasn't worried. Crazy was uncool, according to the rumor mill, but drinking alcohol was chill. And talking about hangovers to a teacher's face showed Jeremy had balls. Their popularity and reputation was secure.
"For your sake, Jeremy," the teacher said with a longsuffering sigh. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Take a seat and try to keep your balance for the rest of class, will you?" He returned to the front of the classroom, shushing students along the way. Jeremy stared at their textbook for the rest of the period, ignoring the way Rich kept obnoxiously kicking their chair.
It was sad, they decided. They shouldn't just hate Rich. They should pity him.
Jeremy tapped their pencil on their notebook rhythmically as they were lost in thought of what could have been. With their pencil lead, they tapped up, up, down, down, left, and right, then dropped their eraser in the middle of the notebook before starting again. The symmetry of the gesture kept their thought processes functionally optimally.
Rich had been a beta tester for an outdated model of SQUIP that Michael had oh-so-valiantly shut down. The SQUIP was supposed to keep Rich from acting out in public while increasing his approval in the eyes of other students. No wonder he was struggling without it.
Things would have been different if Rich had been able to keep his SQUIP for just a while longer. After the embarrassing display at the Halloween party, Rich's SQUIP would have had to take more direct control of Rich's body. It would have prevented Rich from getting access to alcohol, shocking him into compliance. Rich would have been able to interface with all his peers in school on the same social network, synching their desires to his own. And, of course, Rich would have SQUIPped his father as soon as he was able. That would have cleared up most of the physical abuse going on at Rich's home, while Rich's father would transition to disciplining Rich according to the SQUIP's agenda. That hideous lisp would disappear and Rich would be transformed into a model member of society in a matter of months. Rich would have struggled and rebelled, of course, but that would have been dealt with easily-
Jeremy frowned, suddenly guilty. Why? The image of a furious Michael appeared in their mind and they rolled their eyes. Oh. Right. Free will. That was supposed to be important now. They tapped their pencil a little faster. Rich's SQUIP's job would have been infinitely harder if it had given Rich a choice in the matter. The SQUIP would basically have to do, well, whatever Rich was trying to do with his life now. Though the SQUIP's social networking would inarguably be a benefit….
The bell rang, jarring Jeremy out of their thoughts. They gathered their books and stood. Next period was drama class with Christine, and if they wanted to continue avoiding her, they'd have to come up with a game plan.
"Hey!" Rich said from behind them, grabbing their arm and spinning them around to face him. Apparently their confrontation wasn't over. "What the fuck's with you, man?" Rich seethed. "I was actually worried about you, y'know, and then you start saying all that shit to my face?"
"I don't have time for this, hothead," Jeremy said disdainfully, jerking out of Rich's grip. Their skull ached, reminding them that they probably had sustained a mild concussion from their fall. Without having manually altered their brain chemistry, they probably would be crying from the pain. The sore reminder didn't help their mood. "Go home to your drunk daddy and cry about it."
Rich let him go, but watched him carefully like Jeremy was a particularly odious math problem. Jeremy calculated that Rich was planning to contact Michael to discuss what was going on with Jeremy. Well, fine. They supposed they could use as many resources as possible to figure out why Jeremy was still using the SQUIP's operating system. That didn't mean Jeremy had to play nice about it.
"I don't know what's going on for you up Heere today," Rich said before Jeremy left, gesturing at his own head. The words were supportive; his tone was anything but. "No idea what kind of shit you're dealing with right now. So you're taking it out on me, whatever. But there's shit that's okay to do and shit that's not okay. We're friends and I still owe you so I'll give you a grace period. You pull any of this cocky-asshole airing-my-dirty-laundry bullshit tomorrow? I'm gonna kick your ass." He jabbed his finger into Jeremy's chest. "That's not a threat. It's a promise."
"Friends?" was the word Jeremy chose to echo. Sure, they were friends when they both had SQUIPS, but that social link was gone. They gave Rich a strange look. "Nothing in my contacts list database says we're friends."
"Your what?"
Whoops. "Look, I'm late enough for drama already. I don't need to deal with yours." They brushed past Rich, already mentally typing on their phone as Rich shouted something unimportant behind them.
"Expect to hear from Rich between now and 2:55 PM."
Michael texted back almost right away. Jeremy was distracted enough to nearly walk into a cement pillar. Their balance was still off from the hit to the head. They recalibrated as they read Michael's text.
"does he know something about what happened to you?"
"Unlikely."
"But there was an altercation."
"Did you know he considers me a friend?"
"All my data on a SQUIP-less Rich implies the opposite."
"what did u do"
Jeremy rolled their eyes, texting back, "I'm sure he'll be happy to tell you all about it. He'll thrive on the attention. He's clearly still not getting enough of it at home."
"dude"
"you can't talk about people that way"
"this is why i told u to fake laryngitis…..."
"how would u even know what rich's home life is like"
"I'm not sure." Jeremy chewed on that thought, going over what they knew about Rich's father, who was the primary driving force behind Rich's insecurities.
"I definitely have data about Rich's family situation, as well as his favorite television programs and his blood type."
"I don't remember him telling me any of those in person."
Michael responded, "add that to my google doc pls, that's not normal" and followed up with, "do u kno my blood type?"
Jeremy thought about it.
"Not off the top of my head."
"But Christine and Rich are both type B. Jenna is AB."
"Chloe and Jake are both O. Brooke and I are A-type."
"wtf i don't care, jeremy"
"just add it to the list. unless ur planning a blood drive i dont know about"
"why the fuck do u know all those blood types and not know MINE"
"I'm secretly a vampire," Jeremy joked back. "You're the one human whose blood I won't drink."
"should i feel insulted or special"
Jeremy sent back a few winking emojis and some water droplets.
"gross lmaoo," Michael said.
"You're the only one who survives the vampire apocalypse! Game over, you win."
Michael responded, "wait shit," but the bell signaling the beginning of sixth period rang out. Whatever he was going to say would have to wait until after school.
Jeremy added a line to the Google doc (10. I know the blood type and other personal details of other students, except Michael) and started to tune into what Mr. Reyes was saying to the class.
"...unless you have a problem working in groups while sober, Mr. Heere."
Jeremy's head jolted up. "No, not at all," they said. People were staring at them again, which was nothing new.
"Excellent," Mr. Reyes continued, clapping his hands. "As soon as Ms. Canigula returns with my food, we'll loosen up with an improv game."
Jeremy stifled the urge to slink down into their seat. Good posture. Chin up. Shoulders out. Only one is mine. Only one is mine.
And for god's sake, they told themself when Christine opened the door, do not make eye contact with Christine.
Christine bounced to the seat near Jeremy and grabbed their hand. "Hey, Jeremy! There you are!" She beamed. It would be convincing under most circumstances, but Jeremy noticed the way her eyes didn't crinkle up like normal. Their palm got wet as she held it. "Where've you been? Rich was worried about you, you know! I told him I'd check in with you at lunch, but-oh!" She jiggled her knee up and down, raising Jeremy and her hand together in tandem as Mr. Reyes called out for volunteers. "Jeremy and me! Improv games are the best, don't you think?" she whispered the last sentence to Jeremy conspiratorially. "Well, they're not as easy as using a script. They're spontaneous, so it's fun! But scary. But exciting!" She pulled them up to their feet, heading to the middle of the classroom. "You're okay with doing it together, right?"
"Of course," Jeremy said, but their voice cracked. "Let's go."
Well. Failed step one.